


Books and Coffee

by starryeyedboxes



Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, septicplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedboxes/pseuds/starryeyedboxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark meets a wonderful man on the street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff. Did I mention that this was fluff?
> 
> I wanted to write something dark, but I decided to have some fluff instead because I figured it would at least make me feel better. So I hope you enjoy!

There had been something absolutely flattering about the way that young man's eyes had widened when he first looked at Mark as the two passed each other on the street. His pale skin immediately flushed, and the way his lips pursed was purely innocent. It was even even more intriguing when the stranger's dragging shoe snagged on uneven sidewalk and his drink went tumbling towards the ground as he followed. 

However, Mark's hands had immediately reached out for the falling man, his fingers wrapping around his warm arms before his knees hit the pavement. There had been a moment of silence that passed between them, but as Mark pulled the obviously flustered man to his feet, he saw the most gorgeous blue eyes he had ever come across. 

The man introduced himself. Jack McLoughlin. Mark remembered the way his Irish accent flowed wonderfully as he rambled off an embarrassed apology, but he could barely focus on it. The only thing he could pay honest attention to was the way Jack's greying hair stuck out in cute angles from a darker grey beanie and the way he would smile as he talked-- a grin so bright that Mark felt entirely in awe at the sight. 

Jack was still clearly flustered as he continued on a small ramble while he bent down to pick up the cup of coffee he had just spilled. Mark simply told him not to thank him or even apologize. It hadn't been much, and he would've felt even worse if Jack had actually taken the fall at all. 

The stranger simply provided a lopsided smile as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. Mark felt himself provide an even bigger smile when the young man let out a small huff, the cloud filling up the cold air. They said their goodbyes, and departed.

"Goodbye, Mark."

Mark's mind was filled with small scenarios of that cute Irish klutz, his thoughts creating various stories about what their interactions would be like if their encounter had gone differently. He wrote down each one in fear that he would forget them, taking time to focus on intricate details in order to fulfill his hungry imagination. He was mildly embarrassed at what he was doing, even though he had changed the names, but it was beginning to fill him with innocent happiness regardless.

Mark was surprised when he ran into that man yet again in the same place. When they interlocked eyes, he saw such a beautiful storm in Jack's, a slight blush creeping up on the stranger's cheeks yet again. 

He soon learned that they both traversed this way thanks to their work routes. They were both leaving their jobs after finishing their shifts to return home, and in doing so, this meant they crossed paths. Jack had just started working at the coffee shop a few blocks over while Mark had employment at a bookstore a few blocks down in the opposite direction. 

"Books and coffee," Jack noted, his smile small as he spoke. "What a cliche mix, don't y'think?"

Mark went home after this second encounter to write stories about sitting in coffee shops during late nights as words of wild blue eyes colliding with warm chocolate ones filled his notebook's empty lines. He spent the rest of the night chewing on his pen mindfully, denting the utensil as he smiled at his creation. 

Their third encounter was not long after the second. In fact, it was merely a few days after, but Mark would be lying if he didn't wait around the corner for a few minutes since he was worried he was too early to run into that cute coffee shop worker. When he finally stepped out, he did indeed run into Jack, the young man less flustered than before, but definitely much too goofy for his own good.

But Mark soaked it up entirely. 

They stood on the sidewalk as he listened to Jack's immature but still somehow charming humor, his lungs slightly burning from how hard he found himself laughing. 

"I can't believe you _actually_ laughed at that," Jack chirped with a prideful smirk. "Didn't take you as the type who laughed at off-handed childish jokes."

He wondered if it was simply because of the fact he was slightly interested in the young man, but as more time passed, and the more he found himself laughing and providing his own jokes in their conversation, the more he realized it was more based on comfort than anything. He was simply much more relaxed with Jack than he originally thought. 

Mark spent a few hours into the night progressing his small story. He even dreamt of warm smiles and beautiful laughter.

A week later, it was raining fairly harshly. As Mark clutched onto the book he had purchased as a gift from work, he ran a finger over its edges before he stuffed it into the inside pocket of his peacoat so he could shield it from the falling rain. As his feet carried him down the sidewalk, he was surprised to see that Jack was walking down it as well. They were the only two on the street and when they made eye contact, Jack quirked an eyebrow. 

Mark explained he walked home everyday when he worked. The rain couldn't change the fact that he didn't own a car. Jack responded saying his shift happened to end at this time again which meant he couldn't carpool with his coworker. He was stuck walking home as well. 

The rain was too harsh so their conversation would definitely have to be cut short on this gloomy day. Jack apologized to which Mark waved off the guilty expression. But before the young coffee shop employee trotted off, Mark placed a hand on his wrist to stop him.

He turned around with those famous reddened cheeks, his eyes lingering a bit at Mark's hand wrapped around his arm.

With the hand that was not holding the umbrella he was hiding under, he fished for the book in his pocket and presented it to Jack with a nervous smile. He explained that it was one of his favorite books, that he even recommended it to his friend Arin, and that he thought if Jack was interested, he could try this book out as well. 

"I don't read much," Jack admitted, his eyes fixated on Mark. He felt his mouth dry slightly. "But hey, if you're highly recommending it! The Martian by Andy Weir it is." 

They said their usual goodbyes and hurried home to hide out from the worsening rain. Despite the dark clouds over the town, Mark's heart was filled with light as he took his pen to paper yet again, the words flowing happily as they poured from his soul. 

It had been a while since he had crossed paths with Jack. He missed the young man's laughter and he often wondered if he should try finding that coffee shop he worked at, but he deemed it was a tad creepy. He was sure Jack wouldn't think so, but as far as Mark was concerned, he was too nervous to come off incredibly strong. So he continued to pass their spot on the street in silence.

He continued writing, his brain happy with the muse it had found. Granted it was someone he hardly knew, but there was something so endearing about Jack that just needed to be expressed on paper. Something about him easily filled Mark's thoughts frequently, haunted his dreams most nights, and hovered over his creative actions. Mark was completely enamored by that grey-haired young man, and it slowly drove him mad as each day passed.

It had been another two weeks before he finally ran into Jack again on that street. Jack looked more than happy to see Mark, which calmed his nervous thoughts to a small but noticeable degree. He explained that he had been taking extra shifts at the coffee shop lately because he needed the money, which finally extinguished Mark's raging nerves. 

Mark explained that it was fine, of course, and questioned about his companion about the book. 

"Oh!" Jack smiled. "It's really good so far! I'm over halfway through! I read it during my breaks and when I go to bed. Do you have any more recommendations?"

On an impulse, Mark pulled out a business card that belonged to the small bookstore and handed it to him with a soft smile. With brightened eyes, Jack nodded and promised he would visit within the next week on one of his lunch breaks. 

When they separated, Jack had actually hugged him for once. Mark was surprised and it took a moment to reciprocate the warm gesture, but he did anyway. As the hug ended, Mark's heart leaped when he saw Jack was blushing just as furiously as he was, his hand running at the back of his neck like the first time they had met.

He was so excited when he got home that he almost forgot to write more of his story he had created about him and the goofball. Mark wrote, but not much as he soon wondered mindlessly about what books he needed to recommend. They would have to be good choices after all.

Mark compiled a list of books to set aside at the bookstore on the inside cover of his writing notebook. It was something he often took with him to work regardless so he could write poetry and random thoughts during the slow hours. His writing notebook present at the store was often why he rarely stopped thinking of Jack at work. 

But it had been two days into the week before Mark heard the front door open and as he looked up to greet the customer, he saw Jack standing inside wrapped with a grey scarf to match his hat. 

He saw Mark and smiled instantly, that endearing grin making him smile in return. It was incredibly contagious. 

Already prepared with the books he had chosen to showcase to his Irish companion, Mark pulled them from behind the register and showed them to Jack. It was easy to tell that he was diligently listening to Mark's brief explanation of each book to help him decide if he wanted any of these or if he wanted to look around a bit. 

Jack found a few and even let Mark show him around the shop, which he of course happily obliged. Mark was excited the entire time, but what made the day even better was the fact that Jack was never too far. In fact, Jack was often so close to Mark that their shoulders would brush on far more than one occasion. 

But there was one very special moment that rose above the others. Jack had reached up to Mark's flipped collar and fixed it, his hands lingering on each side for a few moments. They made eye contact and Mark's mind began racing over and over and over. He stared at those clouded blue eyes and looked at that uniquely greying hair, as well as Jack's lopsided smile and the way his bottom lip was in between his teeth. Mark's eyes were just as wide and before he could process what even happened, Jack quickly patted his chest and slunk away, his face a furious shade of red. 

Air finally filled his lungs, and he took a deep breath that helped him clear his thoughts. But as he returned with Jack to the counter and helped pack up the things he had chosen and placed behind the counter, he couldn't hide the incredibly obvious smile on his face. 

Jack was just as flustered as their first encounter, but he seemed relieved as they hugged and he scurried out of the bookstore like something was after him. When Mark returned to his spot, he saw a piece of paper with some writing scribbled on it resting on the counter.

_"Thank you for the books, Mark. I know you said they were free, but I'm not an idiot. I know you paid for them yourself, you smelly. How about you come by my coffee shop tomorrow and I'll treat you to some of my coffee as thanks?_

_Although a cup of coffee doesn't come even close to the amount of money needed for four hardcover books, I'd still like to see you there anyway."_

If Mark's smile was wide before, it didn't compare to how big it was now. He had to slip off his jacket from how warm he was getting while his heart was pumping incredibly hard. It wasn't a date, but that didn't take away how wildly excited he was for tomorrow. Jack had written down the address as well as what time he would be working tomorrow and awfully luckily for Mark, his own work hours didn't conflict. He worked the same hours every weekday, so he was glad that Jack's shift was later in the day. 

When he finally came home and sat down at his desk to write, he noticed his notebook was absent from his bag. Mark must have left it at work. Saddened by his absent mindedness caused by Jack's invitation, he decided to go to bed to help pass the time even quicker. 

It ended up taking a few hours of anticipating thoughts filled with excitement as well as a ton of rolling around underneath his covers, but he finally drifted off to sleep where he dreamt of him and Jack in his bookstore.

When his shift ended the next day, Mark hurried off towards the coffee shop, happy to see Jack again. He was always incredibly pleased to see those beautiful blue eyes and listen to that laughter that was more melodic that his favorite songs.

Jack saw him the moment he entered the door and almost instantly, his face turned a deep red. But instead of smiling like usual, he slipped behind the counter, talked to one of his coworkers, then hid behind one of the employee doors.

Mark was utterly confused and his heart sunk at Jack's unusual behavior. The woman working the cashier called him over where she soon explained that the Irish worker wasn't feeling well. She would make the drink he recommended instead and it was still of course on the house.

With a slightly broken heart and confused mind, Mark agreed out of politeness, waited for the pretty woman to make his drink, then hurriedly exited the shop with his coffee in one hand, the other clenched at his side.

Mark had made it down a few blocks and realized he had completely walked past his apartment because he was entirely lost in his puzzled thoughts. As Mark looked around, he cursed himself for finding himself in their usual spot on that famous street.

When he heard loud footsteps behind him he turned around to see what the small commotion was. Mark was surprised to see Jack actually running towards him, his hair disheveled all around and his work apron untied in the back, allowing it to flap around wildly. 

Before Mark could get in a word, Jack tackled him into a hug, his arms wrapping around Mark's torso, and instinctively, he wrapped his arms around him in return, still being cautious of not spilling the drink all over the man hugging him.

Jack immediately began apologizing profusely, his face partially buried into Mark's shoulder. 

"I'm so sorry," he began. "I was just really nervous when I saw you and I didn't think I could look you in the eye after what happened this morning, and-"

Mark questioned what happened this morning to which Jack pulled away, his hands resting on Mark's forearms.

"You must've slipped your notebook into my bag with the other books. I'm so sorry-- I didn't know-- I woke up early to finish reading what I started last night so we could talk about it today and it was your notebook. It was really good! Your writing is wonderful! I didn't know you were even a writer! Hey, Mark? Are you listening?"

He felt frozen. His expression was stoic, but he still felt the warmth on his cheeks and the slight perspiration on his temple. Jack had read the stories Mark had written about him. There was no doubt. 

He was pretty sure that he had never been more mortified in his entire life. 

Mark turned on his heel, breaking free of Jack's hold, and began walking away from the situation at hand. It wasn't until he was spun around a few feet later that he saw Jack's lopsided smile again. 

"Mark, you don't understand. I didn't realize it was about... us until over halfway in. I read the entire thing. I-I'm incredibly flattered-" 

He was rambling again. Mark's eyes softened at the scene at hand, and his anxiety calmed slightly as he watched Jack fumble over words and repeat himself tirelessly. It was just like the very first day. 

"-and to be honest, I'm really happy, because, you know, I'm pretty into you as well..."

Mark was never the type to make the first move, he was much too shy about the whole thing, but he was thoroughly surprised when Jack interrupted his own speech by cursing a loud _fuck it,_ then proceeded by grabbing him by his work collar and harshly pressing their lips together.

His head swirled. 

It took him a moment to even comprehend what was happening, but soon enough, he felt himself return the kiss, sinking into the joy (and still some shock) that was filling his body. 

It was winter this time of the year, but he couldn't feel anything other than that warmth that spread through him. When they pulled away, slightly huffing for air, Mark realized that he had dropped his drink during the chaos. The mocha coffee spread across the sidewalk, puddling at their shoes. 

Mark made a comment about how this was also like the very first day, except there was no tripping, and it was him who had spilled the coffee. Jack's lovely laughter filled the air, his hands still grasping Mark's shirt. 

Jack pressed his forehead against the bookstore employee's chest, disregarding the curious glances by passers-by, and let out a soft sigh. He promised to return the notebook, though. Under one condition of course. 

He exclaimed Mark had to finish it. Mark promptly agreed, saying he finally knew how the story would end, a proud smile on his face. Jack flushed again, rubbing the back of his neck as usual. 

"Books and coffee," Jack commented as Mark grabbed his hand. They immediately began walking back to the coffee shop considering Jack was technically still working his shift after all. "What a cliché mix."

But Mark simply squeezed his hand in response as Jack muttered how all clichés aren't irritating, and he very much enjoyed how their cliché worked out. 

Mark couldn't have agreed more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it in a different style, but I don't think I'll be keeping it around. It was nice for this one, but I don't see myself writing like this any more.


End file.
